It was Mickey's Dad who found them next, but Mickey thought that was his own fault really. They'd strayed little too close to Chicago, never really settling down for long, not wanting to remain in one place. But they'd stopped just out of Chicago for about a week because Kara hadn't been very well. Terry Milkovich came personally to drag Mickey out of bed and he slammed him so hard into a wall that Mickey saw stars.

He counted himself lucky that it had only been his Dad, that he hadn't brought anybody else with him. Even so, as he fought back – because Mickey really wasn't the type to take anything just lying down – managing to break his Dad's nose at the very least, Mickey was convinced he was going to die. And they say that when you're convinced of that, you're life flashes before your eyes. Or at least Mickey thought he'd heard that somewhere anyway. Except Mickey knew without that even happening that he kind of wasted his life, he just spent a lot of it being a dick, running and drinking.

As far as he was concerned, there were only two patches of actual light in the darkness of his life. One had been when he'd been about seventeen and taking frequent trips to Juvie and the other was now with the girls. As fucked up as that was, he knew that was the truth.

And then Tegan stabbed Terry in the leg with a penknife as they crashed past the bed that the girls shared and Mickey was pretty sure that that feeling that he felt in his gut was pride. He'd laughed as his Dad lay there, pleased because Tegan didn't even flinch, he just grabbed a hold of Mickey's hand, the one that didn't have the obviously broken finger and dragged him out towards the door. She was only twelve – and even then only just.

All of their stuff was bagged and ready to go, just like always and Kara grabbed it they bolted, leaving Terry there on the floor clutching his leg and swearing at them.

"I don't think I like him," Tegan commented when they were on the road. She was sitting in the back with him, her legs crossed on the seat, taping his broken finger to another one because they knew full well that there was no way they were going to the hospital.

Mickey smirked, "Yeah, me neither."

As if that wasn't obvious.

"Nice job by the way," Mickey muttered, because it had to be said. He didn't want her thinking that it wasn't okay to do that, that she shouldn't do that, because as far as he was concerned she could stab his Dad whenever she liked. She could stab him wherever as well.

Tegan grinned like all of her Christmases had come at once. "Why's he hate gay people anyway? She asked after a while and she wasn't looking at him, although she did glance up through her lashes a few times.

"No fucking clue," Mickey replied, because it wasn't really something he thought about. He didn't think about the why, he just knew it was a fact. "Probably because everybody else does in my neighbourhood."

"It's called small-mindedness," Kara put in over her shoulder, one hand dangling out of the window clutching a cigarette as she drove.

Tegan pulled a face, "It's stupid."

After that she was away chattering about random things. Mickey didn't really listen, he just nodded along and occasionally looked back at her from staring out the window. He could see lights in the distance that he knew was Chicago and he scowled a little because all of a sudden he was thinking about that stupid redhead that he didn't want to think about. The one he should have forgotten a long time ago. The sight of Chicago made him keep wondering what he was doing, whether or not he'd gotten his ass shot off in the army or something. He didn't want to wonder, but he did anyway. Mickey could be stupid like that.

"You okay?" Kara asked him, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Beside him, Tegan had fallen asleep slumped against the window. He hadn't even noticed when the chatter had cut off, which was worrying. He'd been too wrapped up in his own head. "Fucking great," he muttered back, thumbing his bottom lip and wincing when he touched the cut there, "Just thinking."

He saw her smirk out of the corner of his eye. "Don't hurt yourself," she told him.

He flipped her off as he climbed through the gap between the seats into the front, putting his feet up on the dashboard and sinking down into the seat. "Just keep driving," he replied, wishing there was an edge to his voice that had always used to be there. He didn't think there was anymore, maybe it was just that he was becoming far too familiar with the girls. He was just starting to like them or something.

"Yes boss," she muttered, looking at him briefly but knowing better than to say the thing she obviously wanted to. He wondered when she saw when she looked at him, wondered if he even seemed like a complete person anymore. Because he didn't feel it. For some reason he felt broken, felt broken and felt like his Dad was determined to crush the pieces up even smaller. Into dust.

Mickey thought that he was doing that just fine on his own actually. He didn't even know how to stop.